


Cowboys and Angels

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, RPF, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Filming for the last season of Supernatural is underway and Y/N, long-time set photographer, finds herself the center of attention for two of her co-workers, Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles. A roller-coaster of emotions ensues over the year as the three of them attempt to balance work, the end of an era, and experimental love.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Reader, Jensen Ackles/Reader, Misha Collins/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93
Collections: Fic Facer$ 2019





	1. Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

> For Fic-Facer$ 2019, this series fulfills my second lot (that I am very late on finishing).

If money were no object, she would have bought every single stitch in the store. And not just the women's department. Wardrobe always needed fresh styles and the men's selection carried a variety perfect for their cast. Pants that fit both leads. More coats then she could shake a stick at. And boots. So. Many. Boots.

Not to mention all the plaid flannel.

As Y/N flipped through a rack of men's shirts, she pictured Jensen and Jared in each of them, deciding which colors fit them best. Blue and grey on white. Clearly Jensen. Burgundy and black. Jared. Purple and green. Too bad Misha never got to wear the Winchester uniform. She grabbed all three anyway, as well as several others, then turned for the register.

Before she took two steps, Y/N spotted several racks of hats mounted on a nearby wall. Misha never wore much beyond a ball cap or trucker hat. But Jensen. He had an eye for extremely stylish hats. Wide brimmed fedoras, Panamas, Westerns, and Stockmans, Jensen wore them all. Not to mention the newsboy from last season. That had been a particularly attractive look.

Not that Y/N had ever thought that way about Jensen. After so many years working with him on set as a photographer, she had gotten to know him a little bit. But they were hardly friends.

“Y/N?”

She spun about as if caught red handed. “Misha?”

He moved in for a hug before she had a chance to gather her wits. “Good to see you! Ready to start the last season?”

His hug smothered her, cologne and fresh laundry and soap filling her nose as she hugged him. “Yeah, I'm… I'm not ready for the end. But I'm excited to be back.”

When he released her, Y/N looked over his shoulder to find Jensen picking through the rack of plaid. But then Misha's attention returned her eyes to his—damn their brilliant blue—and he said, “Good to see you. How was your summer?”

She hesitated a breath, unable to catch hers as Misha smiled his soft smile and stared into her eyes. “Uh, great. Busy! Kept up with some work. But I'm so excited for the last season!” When his brow knotted, she jumped back in. “It's bittersweet! I'm glad to have been such a permanent part of the show, but I'm so sad it’s ending. Been a major part of my life.”

“I can imagine,” Misha teased as he looked over his shoulder. Jensen considered a blue and gold plaid that she had already grabbed. “You’re not the only one that feels that way.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Me? I'm fine,” he said.

Had she not worked with Misha on a regular basis, his touch might have melted her on the spot. Good for Y/N then that she had known him for the better part of ten years.

Except she had never seen that look in his eyes before. Oh sure, during photoshoots and scene work, she captured all manner of devious stares from him. But there had always been a camera between them. He’d never looked at her that way. Not until that moment, in the middle of the little shop, with—

“Hey, Y/N! Been a hot minute,” Jensen said as he shouldered past Misha for a hug.

Fresh laundry, soap, beard oil, and… something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on filled her nose as she hugged him in return. “It has. Ready to put one more in the bag?”

“Stoked,” he said as he parted from her. “Is Misha bothering you? You look… red,” he added as he motioned to his face.

“I… ah, no. He's not bothering me,” she stuttered. “Misha is a saint, and you know that. I'm just picking up some things wardrobe might like.”

“Enabler,” Jensen mused. “They don't need any more plaid.”

“I disagree, keep sending more,” Misha interjected, “They might give me one eventually.”

Loud laughter filled the store as Jensen leaned back as he swatted Misha’s shoulder. “Sure,” he started, “the day you wear plaid is the day they put me in your trench coat.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip so hard the taste of copper filled her mouth. Between the two of them and their laughter, she could barely focus. Best she keep her mouth shut. Yes. Lest she say something stupid.

“We should get going,” Jensen said through a faded laugh. “Lunch, later?”

“I’ve got coverage while you’re on break, but I’ll catch you tonight,” Misha replied.

Jensen turned for the door and waved to them both. “See you then. Nice seeing you, too, Y/N.”

Misha waved him off, and Y/N smiled. “You on set today, too?”

“I will be, later,” she said as she hefted her arms full of shirts. “Gonna grab a few more—”

“I’ve got time,” Misha interjected as he freed her of her load. “What else are you getting?”

She turned back to the wall of hats. “I’m… not sure yet.”

A knowing gleam in his too blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “Middle row, third from the left.”

When she pointed to it, Y/N turned over her shoulder, and Misha nodded. She picked it up, black felt smooth under her fingers. A narrow band held a small group of understated feathers on the right, secured by a knot on the left. It might work. Not for the show. But…

“He'll wear it.”

She looked up to find Misha right beside her, the warmth of him radiating over her in waves. “You think so?”

He motioned her to the register. “I know so. Let's get you settled up, my arm’s gonna fall off.”

At the register, the clerk scanned and folded each shirt with great care, giving her plenty of time to think. Between the gleam in Misha’s eye and the attentive nature with which Jensen had spoken to her, Y/N's stomach churned with anticipation. Surely, her mind had played tricks on her, seeing something that wasn’t there. Something her brain had conjured to convince herself otherwise. But why? Because, deep down, she secretly wanted something more from them? Had she, after all those years, worked so closely with them that she had developed some sort of juvenile crush on both men?

“Y/N? You okay?”

Misha’s words sliced through the thick fog of her thoughts as the warmth of his touch spread from the small of her back over her entire body. She shook her head to mask a shiver as she dug into her bag. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Distracted. Thinking about all the work I’ve got to do yet.”

“You sure?” he asked with a smile. “Anything I can do to help?”

She took her card back from the cashier. “Yeah,” she started as she handed him the bags. “Enable me further by carrying these out to my car?”

Misha’s devious smirk crooked the corner of his lips as he took the bags from her. “With pleasure.”

Fuck. Better start bringing a change of underwear to work.


	2. Co-workers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha and Jensen chat before Jensen propositions Y/N.

The days blurred together at the start of every new season. A whirlwind of ramp-up preceded the first week of filming as per usually, but an uneasy fervor buzzed in the air on the first day of coverage. Though no one mentioned it, the thought lingered at the back of everyone’s minds: Last season.

While she had known the end would soon arrive, Y/N had never imagined what it might feel like for her life's work to finally end. And though they had started with the fourth episode to give Jensen enough time to prepare for directing again, Y/N positively tasted his anxiety the entire week.

Most days past in that hazy whirlwind of work. Y/N kept herself busy as possible, but the second week of shooting caught her flat-footed and completely unaware. Coverage turned to the season premier, bringing the entire cast and crew back to the graveyard where the previous season had ended, which meant facing Misha again. After their moment in the clothing store, Y/N had attempted to put it out of her mind, but there on set, she felt as though she were under a microscope again every time his piercing blue stare caught hers.

But it was lunch on the final day of shooting for the week that truly did her in.

“Are you breaking soon?”

Jensen's smooth baritone pulled her attention from her camera and she found him talking with Misha not ten feet away from her. The closeness with which they stood, not only in space but in posture, comfortable so near one another, reminded her of their short time together at the clothing store. Any closer and they might as well wrap their arms around one another.

“I’ll be a little late,” Misha started. “Probably not for another hour yet, need to finish some coverage back on the set without the gorilla around to fuck it up again.”

When Misha looked in her direction, Y/N never anticipated he might spot her milling about with her camera, but his gaze snapped directly to hers. “I think I know someone who might enjoy your company while you wait for me.”

Jensen followed his gaze and a crooked brow quirked toward his hairline. “Y/N? You sure?”

They had to be kidding. It had to be some sort of prank; they were pulling out all the stops for the final season, pranking anyone and everyone on set.

Except Misha’s serious stare suggested nothing of the sort. And if she were to be honest with herself, a prank wherein he and Jensen faked interest in her seemed far too cruel for the likes of them. They played practical jokes on people. They did not toy with their co-worker’s emotions.

With a suggestive nod, Misha backed away towards the row of SUVs waiting to take them back to the soundstages. “I'll catch up with you in a little while.”

And just like that, they were alone. Sure, crew members roamed as they tore down equipment, but they paid Jensen and she no mind. Ten feet apart, they stared at one another like some sort of dueling standoff, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Y/N did her best to smile with the confidence befit her experience; she knew Jensen, had known him for years. She wasn't some starstruck girl stunned in the presence of a celebrity.

Except if that were true, then what in the hell fluttered so violently in her stomach?

Then, without warning, Jensen’s rolling gait closed the space between them until he stood within a foot of her. His entire presence encroached on her every sense, warm and inviting as his dazzling smile spread across his too pretty lips. “Hey, Y/N.”

Her mouth opened but too many thoughts crowded her head. After an uncomfortable second, she said, “Hey, Jensen. Season starting well?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “Yeah. Glad I’m done directing though,” he stated. “I enjoy it while I’m in the middle of it, but prep is… terrifying.”

An uncharacteristically girlish giggle bubbled up in her throat. “It’ll be a great episode.”

“Yeah, I’m excited to see it.” His smile widened as his eyes listed from hers and gazed into the distance. For a moment, Y/N thought she had lost him, but then his bright green stare snapped back to hers and he said, “So, Misha mentioned you could keep me company over lunch. You got time?”

“Where’s... don’t you normally eat with the cast?” she asked as she watched Misha’s SUV roll away.

“Yeah, well, Misha’s still working, and Jared was kicked off set after his coverage was finished, so I’m not sure where he is,” Jensen said as he shrugged. He turned for the row of SUVs, regarded them a moment, then turned back to her with an inquisitive stare. Long, so long his gaze poured into hers, and Y/N swore on her life she counted a thousand freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Under his scrutinizing stare, time did that funny little thing where it moved painfully slow and terrifyingly fast. But then the moment passed, and Jensen shook his head as he said, “I’m sorry. I interrupted you while you were working, you’re probably b—”

“Wait!” When Jensen startled at her outburst, she cursed. “Son of a bitch, sorry.”

He smiled, thank God. “Yes, Y/N?”

She hesitated. Dammit all to hell, she knew what she wanted to say. And, something held her back. Mouth agape and jaw working, words poised on the tip of her tongue, Y/N hesitated for reasons unknown to her. When Jensen said nothing and instead quirked an eyebrow skyward, she blurted, “I’ll come with you. To lunch. I can definitely keep you company.”

“Great,” he started as he withdrew his phone from his pocket. “I’ll have them send some food to my trailer, that way we can eat in—Y/N? You okay?”

The sharp sting of embarrassment tingled on her cheeks. “You want to have lunch with me in your trailer?”

His shrug faltered as understanding blossomed on his face. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry. That was… damn, honey, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

Bullshit. She eyed him through a narrowed squint as she asked, “Did Misha plan this whole thing out? Fake the conversation within earshot, get me to believe it was all a random chance you’d be alone. He put you up to flirting with me.”

Jensen held up his hands. “Guilty.” He returned his phone to his pocket. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get lunch with you. Or that the flirting is insincere.”

Y/N checked over her shoulder. “So, this isn’t some sort of prank?”

“Oh, lord, no,” he declared. “That would be a terrible prank. Pranks are for fucking with people’s trailers, not tricking them onto a date.”

She startled at that. “A date?”

Flat-footed, Jensen stuttered his response. “I… it’s a lunch date.” His gaze tipped skyward as though searching for answers in the clouds. “You know. It’s… a thing… that people do…”

Maybe Misha’s scheme had backfired on them both. “You actually wanted to ask me out?”

“I did,” he started as his eyes fell to his boots. “I still do. God dammit, Misha, I'm—” His anger quelled when he looked back to Y/N. “Yes, I would like to go out with you. Lunch, dinner, whatever you’re up for.”

She turned her camera over in her hands, stalling, but for what, she hadn't a clue. “You staying in town this weekend?”

Jensen grinned again. “I am now.”

“What about Misha?” she asked.

His barking laughter echoed through the graveyard. When his laughter subsided, he spoke.

“I think I’ve got an idea that’ll get him to stay.”


	3. Mutual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night at the club.

It wasn't as though Vancouver's nightlife lacked anything Y/N had hoped to find that weekend. But when the SUV lumbered to a halt in front of the club, a chill numbed her toes and fingers as a sinking sensation soured her stomach.

Beside Y/N, Jensen’s gaze drifted from the window to hers. Too pretty by half, the neon lights glowed an eerie blue green in his eyes. When he remained silent, she asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, we come here all the time,” he reassured as he opened his door and stepped from the truck. “Misha’s already here, got us a booth.”

Already there? How much had they planned that evening? Y/N shook her head as his door slammed shut. She opened hers with a pop of the handle, and Jensen held out his hand as he held the door wide for her. “Do you…” She paused to focus on her step, her hand in Jensen's surprisingly smooth palm. “Why a booth?”

“Safe spot to catch a breather,” he explained as he offered his arm. When she took it, he smiled. “Or some privacy.”

Privacy. Why would they…

Shit.

“I think I need to make a couple clarifications,” she said.

Jensen waved at the bouncer as he led them through the doorway. “Lay it on me, darlin’.”

_Darlin’._

The clubs thundering bass hardly drowned out her racing heart. “I’m… nervous. You probably have some expectations and I—”

“What kind of expectations?” Jensen asked he navigated the crowded bar.

“The sexual kind. To be honest, I thought you weren’t interested,” Y/N said as she followed him up to the bar. “Misha, on the other hand…”

A bewildered shake of his head preceded Jensen's feigned offense as he navigated through the club. His laughter followed hot on the heels of her shock, overpowering the club’s thumping music, and his bright smile washed away her concerns. “I am interested, but I would never presume such a thing. And I think you know me better than that.”

Relief, saccharin sweet, soothed the knots in her stomach. “I do,” she replied, “but I had to get it off my chest.”

“Oh, you got it off your chest alright,” he quipped as his eyes flicked down and back up. “Misha?”

The bartender interrupted her thought before it reached her lips. With their drinks ordered and the bartender busied, Y/N spoke. “Sure. Didn’t realize it was mutual.”

“It is,” Jensen said as he slid a credit card across the bar and waved to the bartender. Drinks in hand, he motioned her towards the rear of the club. “It’s not like Misha to be forward.”

She sidestepped a gathering of young co-eds crowding the door into the dance room. “So, he sends you to do the dirty work?”

Jensen’s hearty chuckle echoed through her chest like the muted bass from the club. “This is a first for us. It might not work. It might be a complete disaster. No expectations. We will do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Whatever she was comfortable with. She sipped from her drink to let the thought settle. “I think I’m okay with that.”

Before they crossed the threshold into the dance room, the span of Jensen’s hand smoothed along her spine to the small of her back. The nearness of him enraptured her, his breath hot on her ear as he said. “No rush. If you change your mind, just let us know.”

Betrayed by a shiver, Y/N did her best to maintain her composure. She opened her mouth to respond but a wall of sound drowned her out as they entered the club’s main dance room. She looked over her shoulder and Jensen pointed to the far corner of the club, across the crowded dance floor. The warmth of his free hand enveloped her palm as their fingers laced together, and she led the way.

True to his word, a row of private booths, shielded from the club’s massive speakers, sat hidden behind a large wall through a curtained entryway. All of them were empty but for one, where Misha sat and spoke with an employee of the club. But then his eyes slid to hers and Y/N felt the world lurch to a sudden halt as that muted blue pierced her gaze. His bright smile spread across his full lips as he slipped from the booth with a quick apology to the club employee, then greeted Y/N with open arms.

The gap in time between spotting Misha and crossing the space to his table raced to catch up with her, snapped forward like a rubber band stretched too far. His warmth washed over her in a wave of reality as he embraced her in a confident hug, tender as he was firm. And then, as he held her out at arm’s length, his gaze consumed her, head to toe and back.

“Don't you clean up something fierce.”

Though the compliment was appreciated, Y/N scoffed as she gave Misha a playful shove. “Shut up.”

“He's not wrong,” Jensen added with a teasing touch at the small of her back. “When you opened the door at your apartment…” He shook his head. “I thought I had the wrong address for a second.” He grinned as he looked her up and down as Misha had. “But then I realized it had to be you. Nobody on set has legs like that anymore.”

“Well, nobody except for me,” Misha teased. “Which, if you’re lucky, you might see later.”

“Wow,” Y/N said as she regarded Jensen. “Is he always that awful?”

“Yeah, I've gotten used to it. I hardly notice it anymore.” He sipped from his drink, then set it on the table. “Should we get out on the floor?”

Y/N followed Jensen’s lead and took a long pull from her drink. “Sooner the better, I’m not going to last long in these shoes.”

As Misha took her hand, a shiver ran down her spine. “I’ll take care of those later. If you would like.”

Jensen led them back to the dance floor and Misha followed, Y/N by his side. “Is that an invitation?”

“It is,” he started. “But only if you’re sure.”

She regarded Jensen over her shoulder. “What about…”

“Jensen knows he’s more than welcome,” Misha said.

Jensen shrugged as they rounded the corner to the dance floor, and she regarded him. “Up to you, Y/N,” he said over the thunderous music.

Several hundred questions tumbled through her racing mind, hardly able to process it all. Instead, she listened to her heart, and she made her decision with surprising ease. A wordless nod, vigorous in her intent, informed them both.

A devious grin spread across Jensen’s lips as he pulled her onto the dance floor and into his arms. The shock of his lips at her ear jolted down her back and straight to her core as he spoke.

“I’ll watch.”

Fuck.

* * *

The hours drained through her fingers like water. At first, only a trickle managed to escape, but after a few drinks and several songs, all concept of time ceased to exist. For Y/N, she knew three things: music, Jensen, and Misha.

Make that four.

Dancing, music, Jensen, and Misha.

It wasn’t until Jensen dragged them both to the front door that Y/N noticed the late hour. “I haven’t danced that long in ages. College, probably.”

Outside, the SUV awaited them. Misha climbed in and slumped into the spacious backseat. “So, like three years ago?”

“Misha, how old do you think I am?” she asked as she clamored in beside him.

Jensen chuckled as he followed. “Don’t answer, it’s a trap.”

A devious gleam in Misha’s eye defied Jensen’s warning. He leaned close, his lips on her ear and whispered. “Old enough.”

“Okay, that’s just creepy,” Y/N said as she shoved him away.

Jensen’s barking laugh filled the cavernous truck. “See, I told you, any answer is the wrong one.”

Y/N rounded on him. “That is entirely untrue.”

She was about to continue when Misha whispered under his breath, and Y/N barely caught him. When she turned back to him, the driver pulled the SUV away from the club and headed down the road towards Misha’s apartment. “How do you know that?”

“I know quite a few birthdays on our crew,” Misha stated.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply but the warmth of his hand slipped over her thigh. Words crashed together on the tip of her tongue and a string of half-finished sentences dribbled from her lips.

“Start over,” Misha teased as his fingers plied the inside of her thigh. “Speak slowly. Enunciate.”

She gaped, jaw working as she tried to form a coherent thought. “I don’t remember what I was going to say.”

“Aw,” Jensen pouted. “I was hoping for one of your smart-ass remarks. Put Misha in his place for once.”

Misha snorted as he looked to Jensen. “You know, you and Jared regularly put me in my place on set. I don’t need Y/N piling on.”

Y/N turned to Jensen as he laughed again. “I imagine it’ll be more enjoyable coming from her. Would you like to put Misha in his place, Y/N?”

Christ. Would she ever. She turned back to Misha to find an inquisitive quirk to his brow. “I… yes. So much.”

Misha leaned in once more, fingertips biting into her thigh and breath hot on her ear. “And how would you do that?”

The SUV lumbered around a corner and slowed as it approached Misha’s apartment. When it stopped, Y/N said, “I could show you.”

Misha gestured towards the door. “By all means. I’m right behind you.”

Jensen popped the door open and swung it wide as Y/N climbed out, grasping his shoulder for balance. Though she had seen Jensen shirtless many times before, it had not prepared her for the dense, corded muscles she felt beneath his shirt.

Once free of the truck, she looked over her shoulder to find Misha right behind her, his grin far too wide.

“I think I’d enjoy following you anywhere.” His gaze drifted down to her backside and lingered there, head tilted as if to see her better. “Perfect.”

Long, lazy strides bore her towards the front door of the building. Over her shoulder, she spotted both men staring openly at her rolling hips and swaying backside. When neither of them moved, she asked, “Do I have to kick the door in Winchester-style or are you gonna let me in?”

Misha startled as he dug in his pocket for his keys, but Jensen beat him, a small key ring glinting in the moonlight. “Got it.”

“Of course, you have a key to Misha’s building,” Y/N stated.

“And his apartment!” Jensen quipped with a wild grin as he jingled the key ring. “Relationship perks.”

At the elevator, Misha joined them as he wrapped a thick arm around her shoulder. “Speaking of relationships,” he started, “are you sure you want this? We’re not taking it lightly.”

The elevator bell rang as the doors opened, and they entered. Fifth floor selected, the door closed, and Y/N said, “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

Jensen took her hand and his calloused thumb smoothed over the back of her fingers. “We have some ground rules, but we’ve been… searching for a while.”

The elevator bell rang again as the doors opened on the top floor. “Searching? For?”

“Our third,” Misha stated as he led them to his door. Unlocked, he pushed the door wide and ushered them through.

Not unlike her own, Misha’s modest apartment featured a modern living room, kitchen, dining room, and foyer. “You both wanted a third… partner? Lover? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Those fit,” Misha said as he closed the door. That warmth of his hands returned to her then, enveloping her bare shoulders as he leaned close. “I’ll admit, I’ve been wondering about you for a while. Didn’t have the guts to say anything at the end of last season. And I wanted to talk to Jensen about it first. At length.”

She regarded Jensen. “What did you talk about?”

“Basically,” Jensen began as he kicked off his shoes, “wants and needs. We’re both bisexuals. We both miss sexual experiences with women. But we didn’t want to just go out and sleep around randomly, or without each other. So, we were hoping to find someone interested in us both.”

“That was the easy part,” Misha started with a laugh. “It seems that for quite a few women, if they dig me, they _very_ much dig Jensen.”

“Shut up,” Jensen retorted. “It’s the other way around, and he knows it.”

A threesome then. Y/N thought a long quiet moment before she spoke. “So, you… aren’t looking for just some random fling tonight? Not some kinky cuck thing. A real, honest-to-god, polyamorous relationship?”

“No flings,” Jensen said as he shook his head and grimaced. Then his stare snapped to hers from beneath his brow and his grin returned. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t pretend there’s an element of cuckolding going on tonight.”

Misha’s hands slipped down her back to her hips. “It’s up to you, Y/N. And you can back out at any time. But once we get started tonight,” he paused as his lips plied the crook of her neck with a long, wet suckle. “Jensen’s in charge.”

Try as she might to focus, the room spun in a dizzying rush and her knees nearly buckled. Misha’s grasp of her hips firmed as he held her upright, her back flush to his chest. So close, Y/N felt everything, every ripple of his muscles, every beat of his heart. And lastly, she felt the distinct bulge of his erection as it pressed between her cheeks. A high, squeak of a moan escaped her lips as they parted, her jaw dropping and head tilting back.

"We need an answer—”

“Fuck me, Misha.”

A thousand stars burst alight in Jensen’s wicked glare. “Stop.”

Misha froze at Jensen’s command as though a switch had flipped. “Yes, sir.”

“We’ll be taking this to the bedroom,” Jensen stared as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Maybe next time we’ll try standing in the entry.”

Without any warning, her feet left the ground in a rush, Misha scooping her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing. “Bedroom has the best toys anyway.”

The ache between her thighs pulsed at the prospect of Misha relentlessly teasing her with a vibrator. “Toys for me, too?”

Jensen’s wicked laughter rumbled from his chest. “Toys for you, too, darlin’. But for our first time, I think we’ll take things slowly. Misha will have to satisfy you with whatever he’s got on him.”

In the bedroom, Misha set her on the bed and Y/N spotted something Jensen might not have anticipated. “Misha’s wearing a belt.” As she spread her thighs, she grabbed his belt and hauled her to him. “Can he restrain me, Jensen?”

“I think I would like to see that,” Jensen said as he tore his shirt from his shoulders and tossed it aside. “Misha, tie her up however you’d like.”

As Jensen dragged a chair from the desk, he turned to watch. Y/N returned her gaze to Misha, towering above her, all shoulders and hips, as he stripped himself of his belt. When he held it in both hands he said, “Stand up, please. Turn around.”

Y/N did as asked, and, without a request, brought her wrists together at the small of her back. “Here?”

“Perfect,” Misha groaned. When he said nothing, Y/N checked over her shoulder to find him waiting for Jensen.

Stripped of his own belt, he tossed the strap to the bed, then unfastened his pants. They fell to the floor in a pool of fabric, and he kicked them aside with his socks. Thin, conforming boxer briefs left little to the imagination; Jensen’s erection strained against the waistband, twitching as he sat in the chair and stroked himself. “Take off her dress.”

Misha turned back to her and asked, “May I?”

She nodded in vigorous agreement. “Please.” She couldn’t be free of the fabric fast enough, every inch of her skin prickling with want. The zipper fell as Misha tugged, maneuvered around her bound wrists, then tugged the fabric to the floor.

“Leave your shoes on,” Jensen stated as she slipped from one heel. She wriggled back into it, then arched her back. “You’ll be off your feet soon, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sir,” she quipped with a smirk.

“A quick study,” Misha whispered as he tore off his shirt. “Not too submissive, but not controlling at all. I think you’ll fit in with us spectacularly.”

“Depends on what I’m fitting where,” she teased. “Are you packing as much as Jensen?”

“More,” he started, “but I’m not gonna whip out a ruler to prove it.”

“Will you shut up and take your pants off already?” Jensen demanded. “I’m not gonna come by watching you two babble.”

Misha dropped his pants and kicked them aside. “Please sit, Y/N. Face me.”

She did as ordered. “Here?”

Misha’s strong hand cupped her jaw and a violent shiver coursed through her body, echoing the spasm between her thighs. “Yes. How do you feel about oral?”

“Giving or receiving?” she asked as her gaze slipped to his erection still enveloped by a similarly tight pair of boxer briefs.

“Both,” Misha replied.

She eyed Jensen a few feet away as he stroked the back of his cock through his boxers. “Answer the question, Y/N.”

She hesitated with a lick of her lips. “I enjoy it, but don’t think I’m any good at giving.”

Misha hooked his thumb into the waistband of his underwear. “I’ll be the judge of that.” A rough tug of the fabric freed him, the hard length of his cock falling free to stick straight out from his groin. “I have no expectations. You do whatever you— _holy fuck, Y/N_!”

Her lips parted as she reached with her tongue, drew the head into her mouth, and sucked him into the back of her throat. A strong reflex reared her head, and Misha jerked his hips, but left the crown of his cock in her mouth.

Jensen groaned as he said, “Liar. You don’t deep throat a cock that size and get to be humble about it.”

“Fuck, Y/N, do it again,” Misha begged.

“Do not,” Jensen ordered as he stood and stripped himself of his boxers. “You’ll go at my pace,” he said as he took himself in hand. “Follow me.”

Long, languid strokes from base to tip and back again guided Y/N. She matched his pace, his lazy grip with her gentle lips, and teased ever so slightly with her tongue. Misha’s grasp shifted to the back of her head where he held her by the hair, and with every one of his grunts and groans, Y/N felt how hard he restrained himself. She could taste it on him, the desire to throw all control aside and fuck her mouth as hard and fast as he could until he came. And Y/N would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want it as much as he did.

“Son of a bitch, that’s so hot,” Jensen growled from his chair. “I’m not gonna last very long at this rate. We’ll have to revisit this someday.”

“Jens, please, I’m… I have to,” Misha whimpered. “I’ll be able to keep going, but I need to let this one off.”

Jensen leaped from the chair and rushed to his side. “Come, then.”

Misha took over then, his hips thrusting into her mouth, but he lasted mere seconds. His pace stuttered as his cock twitched, so swollen with arousal until the hot surge of his cum filled her mouth in one hard spurt. His head tilted back as his jaw dropped and he cried such a pathetic whimper, Y/N hardly knew what to make of it. But then his relieved gaze found hers, smile wide and still so hungry. “God damn, Y/N, that was—”

He froze when she hollowed her cheeks and pulled back, sucking him clean. One swallow emptied her mouth, and she licked her lips, lapping up an errant drop of his cum. “That was incredible, Misha.”

He remained silent for a moment as he stared at Y/N. When the quiet stretched, Jensen asked, “Would you like to continue?”

“Yes, sir,” he breathed.

A delicate brush of his fingertips along Misha’s hip sent a shiver through his body. Jensen leaned into his ear and whispered. “Would you like to fuck her somewhere else?”

“I want to see how wet she is,” Misha replied.

Jensen turned to her and said, “You heard the man. Show him.”

 _Show him_. Present herself to him like some sort of animal? Like some sort of depraved, horny beast in the throes of her heat?

She could do that.

Y/N stood and turned, then bent over the tall bed at the hip. Her back arched and her thighs spread, cool air teasing her sopping wet cunt. “Like this?”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you really get it,” Misha mused as he grasped her cheeks and spread her. “I… can I taste her first?”

“This time,” Jensen said as he backed off. “But you know what I prefer.”

“Next time,” Misha said as he knelt behind her. “I promise.”

“I won’t forget,” Jensen teased. “Now, return the pleasure she gave you so well.”

Of all the oral she had ever received, Y/N had never done it with another set of eyes on her. And that did as much for her as Misha’s tongue. Knowing Jensen watched as Misha feasted on her flesh, stroking his cock until he could hardly stand to touch himself, aroused her unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Not to mention Misha ate pussy like a starved man. He ravished her cunt, sucked her clean, then focused on her clit with firm, fast circles. That familiar warmth roiled in her groin until it spread through entire body, weakened her knees, spun the room, and numbed her fingers and toes. Soon, that heat boiled over until she could no longer see straight, and her eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm crashed over her, a tidal wave of sensations. Her own pathetic cry of release muted by the bed, and Misha continued to lick and suck and stroke with unrelenting attention until she begged him to stop, her wrists straining against his belt.

Finally, he withdrew, but the reprieve lasted only a moment. Y/N watched as he wiped his face clean then turned to Jensen for the next order.

There in his chair, Jensen’s determined strokes left him breathless, his chest red and heaving. “Up on the bed. Both of you. I’m… I want to see you finish.”

“Yes, sir,” Misha said as he grabbed her hips. “Get up on the bed, please, Y/N. I’ll help you.”

She hardly had to move. Misha might as well have lifted her entirely onto the bed without her even trying to do it herself. With her wrists still tightly bound, she remained on her knees and bent at the hip, ass held high in the air as her back arched. Misha smoothed her backside with a look of such admiration on his face, Y/N couldn’t help but blush.

“Like I said earlier. You have a perfect ass,” he said, voice hoarse with want. “I can’t wait to fuck it. Next time.”

“Next time,” she sighed, “but for now, I need you in my pussy.”

Misha hesitated, the crown of his cock teasing her lips as he regarded Jensen. “You heard the lady.”

A smooth, slow stroke sheathed him inside her, and he growled so deep in his throat, Y/N felt it echo through him. He wasted no more time, setting a steady pace with his rolling hips. With one hand he held her by a cheek, and the other he teased at her asshole with his thumb, lazy circles drawn around the rim. Y/N moaned into the mattress, thankful for the perfect way it quieted her lust.

As Misha picked up speed, his thumb slipped inside her hole, and she resisted the urge to meet his thrusts halfway. But Jensen saw her struggle despite her efforts and issued a new order.

“Fuck him, Y/N,” he breathed. His strokes matched their pace, speeding up as Misha had. “Give it to him.”

The belt fell from her wrists with sudden freedom, and her hands flew to the mattress. Newfound leverage allowed her to thrust back into Misha’s hips, and he cried out in ecstasy as both hands gripped her hips to hold her steady. “Take it easy on the old man.”

“No,” Y/N huffed as she pushed back again. “I want you, Misha. I want to feel you come inside me.”

He moaned again as he said, “You keep that up and you’ll feel it in a minute.”

Y/N set their pace then, thrusting back onto his cock until a hard flex drew her up short. She looked to Jensen who nodded as he stroked himself as fast as he could. When she turned back to Misha over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you—”

“Jensen, I—”

“Come, dammit, I can’t hold back any longer!”

The shout that burst from Misha’s lips as he slammed his hips into her one last time shoved Y/N over the edge. As he filled her with hard flexes of his cock, the rush of her orgasm swelled once more and released in another euphoric wave of sensations. She moaned through her climax, thighs quivering and arms weak.

And then she heard the whimper from the chair. She looked just in time to see long white ropes spurt from the tip of Jensen’s cock to land on his stomach, his chest, and even his neck. She wondered if Misha had come that hard inside her. It had sure felt like it.

As the aftershocks subsided, Misha withdrew from her and tore into the bedside drawer. From it he pulled washcloths—how domestic—and handed her one, then tossed a second to Jensen. Cleaned as best as she could, Y/N collapsed to the bed and stared at the ceiling, mind blank despite a million thoughts.

Misha joined her before long, then Jensen behind him. There they lay in silence but for their heavy breaths, contented sighs, and soft hums of agreement. As much as she wanted to stay, Y/N forced herself to remain awake lest she pass out for the night and never make it to her own bed.

“I should—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Misha stated as he wrapped an arm around her hip and pulled her flush to his body.

“I’m making breakfast in the morning,” Jensen added.

Breakfast.

With Jensen. And Misha.

Y/N curled into him and her thoughts settled. “I could get used to this.”

The sounds of their laughter followed her down into the deep, dark nothing of sleep, and there she dreamed of a terrifyingly thrilling future.


	4. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On set the following Monday, Y/N talks with Misha and Jensen.

Different.

Walking onto set the following Monday felt decidedly different. Uncomfortable. Weird. Every set of eyes Y/N passed gleamed with knowing, their smiles far too polite. Or at least, she suspected as much. They had somehow figured out everything. They saw it on her face, plain as day. She had fucked Misha. And Jensen had watched. They were freaks. Deviants. Perverts.

Not that she agreed. Far from it. But, like she had told them Friday night, Y/N had never done anything quite like that before. The sex itself had been only mildly kinky—aside from the fact that it had been with Misha fucking Collins—but with Jensen watching, directing, and pleasuring himself, she had ventured into unfamiliar territory.

But she had wanted it, had loved every second, and couldn’t wait for more. Not a single ounce of regret stained those indelible memories. Nothing in the entire universe would ever change that. But her nerves had frayed, overpowered by the anxiety that threatened to send her running from set. Would she ever again be able to look either of them in the eye with a straight face at work?

Despite those nerves—because of them, in fact—Y/N headed straight for the buffet table and grabbed a plate to load up with deliciously sugary breakfast pastries. Nothing like a little carb-induced dopamine rush to settle her anxiety.

“Good morning.”

Her plate of cream cheese Danish bites flew into the air and scattered across the table as Y/N squawked. When her heart started beating again, she glared at Misha, simultaneously embarrassed and furious. She hasn't heard him approach, her thoughts drowning out the din on set.

“That’s it? ‘Good morning’?” she snipped.

He reached out with a tentative hand but seemed to second guess himself. “Is there something wrong? Did we… are you okay?”

Y/N bristled in the wake of his endless kindness. “No, I’m not okay. I feel like… like my skin is crawling.” She sighed, a rough sound growling in her throat. A cautious look scanned the set as she leaned into Misha and asked, “Do I have ‘slut’ written across my forehead?”

Misha reared back at that, aghast in his disgust. “No! Why would you think that?”

“Everyone keeps staring at me,” she muttered as she cleaned up her mess. With all her pastries returned to her plate, she said, “It’s like they all know. They all know everything. About Friday. About us.”

His move to comfort her, though subtle, startled Y/N. She hated that, hated the fact that he backed away and straightened to his professional posture with his hands held up as he stepped back. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to cause you any regret.”

“Sh!” Her hiss echoed through the cavernous set, and a crew member gave her a sideways look as he passed them. She waited for him to walk out earshot, then said, “I don’t regret it. Not even a little bit. I… want more. But I’m really worried.”

“About?” Misha asked.

She poked at one of her pastry bites. “About what everyone will think.”

Misha shook his head as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nobody needs to know. Ever. They won’t. By the time it’ll matter, we’ll be done filming.”

“But what if they find out?” she asked, her mind spinning wildly out of control. “What if some stupid paparazzi followed us to the club?”

He grimaced at that. “I understand your concern. And I having nothing but hollow words for reassurance. But think of it this way. Jensen and I have gone this long without being had.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “That’s a good point.” But then another question bubbled up in the back of her mind. “Wait, how long—”

“Eight years. He’ll tell you nine, but I go by the ‘official’ date,” he said as he pointed to his hand.

Y/N glanced down only to notice Misha yet wore his street clothes. On his right hand he wore a ring that she immediately recognized. “So that rumor is true.” When she didn’t hear Misha respond, she looked back up at him with a questioning quirk to her brow.

“Yeah, but as long as everyone thinks it’s a rumor, that’s all it is,” he said with a grin. “Are you still worried?”

“Worried about what?”

Jensen appeared at her side as though he had manifested from thin air. “Christ, I almost threw my plate again,” she growled.

He glared at Misha. “Don’t scare her off right away, man.”

“Me?! What about you sneaking up on both of us!” Misha retorted.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how I didn’t realize before. And I don’t know how nobody else knows.”

Jensen turned back to her with a smirk and said, “Oh, sweetheart, they know. They all know. They don’t care.”

“Misha contends they all think it’s just a rumor,” Y/N commented.

“Of course, he does, he’s Misha,” Jensen quipped. “Now, I need to ask you something really important.”

The pit of her stomach dropped at the sudden serious look on Jensen’s face. “What?”

“How do you like your steak?”

He grinned as Y/N blinked in confusion. “I uh…” She scrambled for an answer. “Medium rare. Why?”

He opened his mouth to reply when one of the makeup artists called to him from across the set. He waved to her, then turned back to the two of them. “Because ya’ll are comin’ over for dinner tonight and I’m cooking,” he said as he backed away. “Whenever we wrap for the day, head on over.”

Y/N winced as she frantically searched the surrounding faces on set. “Will you be quiet! Someone is going hear you and they’ll know for sure.”

Jensen shrugged as though he didn't care. “See you on set,” he said with another wink as he turned for the makeup trailer and strode away.

An exasperated huff burst from her lips. “I hate you both. I hope you know that.”

Despite her glare, Misha laughed as he said, “I do. See you tonight?”

She stared at her plate a long moment before asking, “Will it be anything like last Friday?”

Misha blushed prettier than she imagined anyone had the right to blush. “Probably. Is that okay?”

Y/N popped a pasty bite into her mouth, swallowed, and licked her lips. “Only if you’re calling the shots this time.”

He leaned in far too close, lips at her ear, and Y/N scoured the sound stage for any voyeurs. But her concerns vanished when Misha spoke, his baritone spiking arousal between her thighs.

“Leave your underwear at home.”

Son of a bitch.


	5. With Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha and Y/N head over to Jensen's Vancouver apartment for dinner.

She had hardly knocked on the door when it swung wide and revealed Jensen, his jeans and sweater covered by a flowery apron.

“C’mon in, I’m just finishing up dinner.”

Beside her, Misha ushered Y/N in, his comforting hand at the small of her back. The spacious apartment sprawled much like Misha’s, barely decorated, yet artistic in its understated design with clean lines and smooth surfaces.

The warm, savory aroma of seared meat filled her nose and dragged her into the kitchen as though she were bewitched. Hot on Jensen's heels, she bumped into him, and it was only when his arms enveloped her as she flailed a step that she remembered where she stood.

Cradled in the crook of his arm, Y/N stared, wide-eyed and full of wonder. A million thoughts and none rattled between her ears, but for the life of her, as Jensen’s green gaze poured into hers, she merely gaped.

He grinned as he said, “Whoa. Easy there, tiger.”

She blinked once, twice, then stood and playfully shoved from his embrace. “Okay, now you’re just as awful as Misha.”

A loud, hollow pop echoed behind her and Y/N turned to find Misha uncorking a bottle of red wine. “He’s lying if he ever tells you anything different.”

She turned back to Jensen’s glare as it narrowed on Misha. But then he softened just as quick and his sweet smile burned bright red as he turned to her. “He’s right.”

“Of course, I am,” Misha retorted as he poured a glass half full of wine. “Y/N?”

As Misha held the glass out to her across the table, she took it. “Thank you.” A sip washed over her tongue, overwhelming her senses with dark currant, spice, and vanilla. “An excellent Syrah, although I’m surprised you didn’t pair your steak with a cab or pinot.”

Misha shrugged as he poured another glass. “I’ve been meaning to try this vineyard for years,” he said as he set a half-full glass aside, then poured a third. “Figured tonight would be a great opportunity to get a third opinion. Jensen and I enjoy pretty much the same exact thing, so an outsider’s thoughts are more than welcome.”

She swirled the wine her glass as she breathed in deep. “I’m no sommelier but I’ll say that I enjoy it. Full, dark, not too dry, but definitely not sweet. That’s the extent of my experience with wine, though.” She set her glass on the counter near the oven, then turned back to Misha. “What do you think?”

Misha sipped from the third glass, a thoughtful look in his eye as he swallowed. “And I’d say you probably know more than you think. Your assessment is spot on.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Jensen retorted as he turned off the heat on the stove top where three different pots simmered. The warm expanse of his hand smoothed the small of her back as he leaned into Y/N and asked, “Hand me my glass, darlin’?”

Apparently, and much to her amusement, that single word, that term of endearment, was all it took. A smooth slick seeped between her thighs as her knees pinned together. As much as she wanted to, Y/N struggled to move. And Jensen knew. The bastard knew exactly what he had done, had done it on purpose most likely. His confident touch confirmed her suspicions as it slipped from her back, over her ass, and slipped beneath the short hem of her dress.

“Y/N?!”

She startled and leaped back half a step. “What?”

He held up two fingers and rubbed them against his thumb. “You actually didn’t wear any underwear?”

Shit. Had it been some sort of test? Had she failed? Her eyes flicked from his to Misha’s and back as she stuttered. “I… Misha said… I was just—”

Jensen’s lips landed on hers without warning for a bruising kiss. Massive hands grasped her backside and lifted her into his arms, her thighs spreading to wrap around his hips. Cool air chilled her to the core as her dress rucked up and bared her ass, and Jensen nearly dropped her on the kitchen table as though he couldn’t have her fast enough.

“Jensen.”

As though struck, he froze, lips against hers and his apron grasped in a fist, prepared to discard. Though he remained close, his glare flicked to Misha and waited.

“When did you plan on eating?”

Jensen rose to his full height, towering over her on the table, and grinned as his gaze slid between her thighs. “Right now.”

“And what about the rest of us?”

He dropped to the floor as though he knelt in benediction at a sacred altar. Y/N breathed as hard as she could through her nose, desperate to remain silent until given an order. Before dinner, then. Unless Misha had something else to say about it. And if he did, she had half a mind to tell him to keep his mouth shut if he wasn’t giving them instructions.

Misha rounded the end of the table and repeated himself. “Jensen.”

His stern address stayed Jensen’s hand but a moment. “You can eat after,” he said as he glared at Y/N from beneath his brow. Calloused hands, rough against the backs of her thighs lifted her legs over his shoulders. “But if you’re that hungry and wouldn’t mind eating something besides steak…”

“Stop.”

The green in his eyes flared with impatient anticipation, then faded as he closed them. A steady breath eased the quake in his shoulders, stilled. Misha closed the space between them to stand behind Jensen, then reached out for him. A touch so tender, Y/N wondered if she had imagined it, cupped Jensen’s cheek, and as though he were a cat, Jensen tilted his head into his palm.

“I can wait for dinner if this is what you really want to do,” Misha started as he slipped his free hand into his pants and adjusted himself. “But if that is the case, then you’ll do as I say. Right?”

Jensen nodded as he sighed, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Misha withdrew his touch and stepped back. The buckle of his belt flipped apart with a flick of his fingers, and he drew a chair out from the kitchen table. He dragged it three feet away, just out of their reach, then sat. “Continue.”

In one hard thump of her heart, Jensen dove between her thighs and his lips enveloped hers. The flat of his tongue lapped at her flesh, sucking and slurping the wet from her sex. The sudden onslaught of sensations, the bite of his fingers into her thighs, the firm press of his tongue in and around her cunt, and the hum of his baritone rolling though her entire body dragged such a depraved cry of arousal from her throat, Y/N’s cheeks stung. Lewd. Deviant. Again, the same thoughts from last Friday assaulted her mind, only slightly altered; as Jensen feasted on her flesh, Misha watched, directed, and in time, began to pleasure himself.

“Fingers, Jensen,” he stated as his hand slipped in his boxers and tugged the waistband down beneath his sac. The stiff length of his erection nearly reached his stomach, the tip swollen and pink as he stroked from the base to the head with a firm fist.

Distracted so, the sudden fullness of Jensen’s fingers inside her surged a wave of arousal through her whole body. Another pathetic cry of pleasure burst from her lips, her jaw dropping wide and head tilted back. The heave of her chest drew Jensen’s attention, and he reached for the top of her dress, fingers hooking into the neck to drag it from her shoulder. Exposed, his large palm enveloped her breast and rolled the taut nipple between his fingers.

“Quite the handful,” Misha commented as he sucked a breath through gritted teeth. “But you know better.”

Jensen hummed his understanding into her but remained relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure. Fingers and tongue worked in perfect unison, a balanced melody accompanied by the harmony of her moans, whimpers, and sighs. If Misha ate pussy like a starved man, Jensen ate pussy as though he consumed the finest cuisine prepared by an expert chef. The slow and steady build of her arousal climbed that all too familiar ascent with such wild ease, the entire world faded away. Boiled over, that sweet release she so desperately sought spread through her body, warmed her fingers and toes, and sucked the air from her lungs. As her cries creeped higher and higher, she writhed atop the table, hips rolling and back arching, and Jensen renewed his pursuit of her end. Faster he thrust, his fingers gliding in the slick of her cunt, swirled harder and faster circles with his tongue around her clit, and ever so gently thumbed the taut peak of her nipple. Each sensation enhanced those that preceded, until the overwhelming surge of release burst apart at the seams and consumed her.

Wet slurps finished her off as Jensen sucked her clean. When he stood, he withdrew his fingers, dripping with her arousal, and held them to his lips, waiting.

“Let her do it.”

Y/N turned to Misha as he stood and approached them. When she remained still, he asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

A coy smile spread across her lips. “Famished.” She sat up and snatched Jensen’s wrist, then pulled him to her mouth. Long, his middle finger reached the back of her throat as she closed her lips and sucked him clean. Then his first finger, tapered at the tip and full of her arousal, dragged through her lips until dry. The wide-eyed awe with which Jensen stared kickstarted her arousal once more. Desperate need radiated from him in waves, barely restrained, the bulge of his erection perfectly outlined in his jeans, and though Y/N wished to satisfy him, she waited.

Misha, however, did not. The flat of his hand smoothed along the ridge of Jensen’s erection until he nearly collapsed between her thighs. “Misha, please…”

“Still hungry, sweetheart?” Misha chimed as he regarded her.

“Starving,” she replied as she watched him relentlessly tease Jensen. “Is he on the menu?”

“Only if he wants to be,” Misha replied as he grabbed himself once more. “And I’m eager to see him in the throes of a blowjob from you.”

Y/N reached for Jensen’s pants as she slipped from the table. “May I?”

Misha acquiesced as Jensen nodded vigorously. Without another wasted second, Y/N tore his pants from his hips and shoved them to his ankles along with his boxer briefs. In the wake of his freedom, Jensen shivered as she grasped the base of his cock, so stiff and sensitive with arousal, she thought he might come then and there.

“Think you can satisfy her hunger?” Misha asked. “Wouldn’t want to leave her unfulfilled.”

Jensen cupped her cheek and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “I think I’ve got a mouthful for you, honey.”

“Prove it,” she teased as she parted her lips and sucked. The engorged tip filled her mouth and slipped into the back of her throat inch by agonizing inch. Jensen shuddered, practically buzzing with tightly coiled arousal as his hips stuttered.

“Now, now, Jensen, don’t disappoint her,” Misha tormented. “She held out for you. The least you could do is return the favor.”

“You’re not helping,” Jensen growled as he withdrew from her mouth. Again, as each inch passed her lips, he shuddered, and a hard flex bobbed the tip between her lips. Though Misha tried to maintain his control, the sight of Jensen’s arousal seemed to do him in. A moan of his own escaped Misha’s lips, and Jensen laughed. “See. Not just me.”

Misha growled in kind. “Oh, I know,” he started as a long, hard stroke of his cock beaded precum at the tip. “I’m in no better shape.”

“If you two are done comparing your stamina,” Y/N interjected, “I’m still very hungry.”

Jensen’s pleading look lifted to Misha. “Please?”

Faster strokes silenced Misha and so, he simply nodded. Jensen’s fingers slipped into her hair at the back of her head and, as her lips parted, thrust his hips to send him down her throat. Y/N reared back once, but settled into his rhythm, jaw loose and lips firm. While Misha had managed only a few thrusts, Jensen fucked her mouth like a professional and without the typical degradation. No, there was nothing violent about the way he thrust into her face. Every sensuous roll of his hips slid the thick length of his cock into her throat with such ease, she knew without a doubt it had to be one of his preferred kinks.

And then the heat of his flesh spiked, his cock swelling and flexing, hips stuttering as both hands entangled in her hair. His moans crept higher and higher, breathless compared to Misha’s insistent words. “Come, Jensen, I’m… I’m close.”

His hips snapped back, withdrawing him from her mouth. She dropped her jaw and tilted her chin up to his cock as Jensen stroked himself hard and fast. The first surge of sharp salt filled her mouth, spurting from the tip of his cock and landing square. Jensen froze, fist clenched around the end of the shaft until the second hard shot of cum landed on her cheek and in her mouth. She closed her lips around the tip of his cock and sucked him clean, only to be met with one final shot of his cum, and Jensen cried out in equal surprise.

“Holy shit, move,” Misha demanded as he nudged Jensen aside. As Y/N turned to Misha, she held her mouth open, and he grasped her jaw. Short, firm strokes pushed him to his climax, and a long white rope of his cum streaked across her lips, followed by a full spurt that filled her mouth to the brim. She sucked him clean as she had Jensen, the tip enveloped by her lips. A final dribble of cum seeped from his cock and ran over her lips to run down her chin as Misha withdrew.

The moment she tipped her head back, he barked an order. “Don’t swallow it.”

The world lurched to a halt as she froze, and Y/N stared first at Misha, then Jensen. When neither moved, she motioned to her mouth with an insistent hum of frustration. And then Misha laughed. “You better do something about that, Jen.”

Jensen? What could he possibly do about—

His fingertips teased gooseflesh from her skin as he turned her by the chin to face him, then tilted her head up as he lowered his lips onto hers. Still so full of their fluids, Y/N reeled in shock as his tongue delved into her mouth. Cum flowed between them, dripped down her chin and trailed down her neck until she swallowed with him. His lips followed the runnels of fluid, tender suckles and slurps arousing her beyond what she ever thought possible. Her thin slick ran down her thighs as her hand slipped between them, the need for release fueling her every impulse.

“Y/N.”

Caught. As though she had been spotted misbehaving—in a way she supposed she was—Y/N ashamedly withdrew her hand from her sex.

When Jensen parted from her, Misha spoke. “As much as we would love to watch you pleasure yourself,” he teased, “Jensen isn’t finished with you yet.”

She understood when Y/N turned back to Jensen and found him stroking his cock, stiff in his thick fist again. Her jaw dropped, stuttering for a moment before stating, “Christ, you’re _both_ up for more than one load.”

Jensen regarded Misha, a concerned look clouding his face. The moment lingered as Misha cocked his head to the side, not unlike he often did when acting, and asked, “Are you okay with this? We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

Y/N stood and hopped back up onto the table. “I am more than okay with that,” she started as she spread her legs. Sweat stuck her skin to the table, and in that moment, she noticed the intense heat of the kitchen. Good. Sweaty, sticky bodies. That ought to be fun.

She gathered the hem of her dress in her fingers, then stripped it off overhead and tossed it to the floor. “I know what you want, Jensen. I can see that hunger in your eyes.”

She checked with Misha to ensure she crossed no boundaries. Three feet away, he merely gaped as he feasted upon her with his gaze, his desire equal to that of Jensen’s. He hardly moved, a slack grip on his half-hard cock stroking absent-mindedly. But then a moment of clarity shook the glazed look from his eyes, and he nodded for her to continue.

“You already know how well I can sate that need,” she said as she turned back to Jensen. “Come here and get another helping.”

That same clarity flashed in Jensen’s eyes as her words sank in, and he straightened, shoulders squared and spine stiff. His gaze drank her naked body in from head to toe and back, and in a sudden flourish of fabric, he undressed himself to match. Tall and broad, his muscled shoulders and chest softened to a smooth stomach as her own gaze consumed him. A confident smirk crooked his lips as he crossed the three short steps to her, his gait as slow as a prowling cat. He said nothing as his free hand grasped her by the chin, rough and greedy. His fingertips bit into her skin as he tilted her chin to press his lips upon hers for a kiss so hard, Y/N whimpered in shock.

He eased up just enough to tease at the fine threshold between pain and pleasure, but the intensity with which Jensen kissed her, touched her, pressed into her never faltered. His hand slipped from her chin to her neck, raked red lines over her collar to her breast where he squeezed with perfect strength. God, she must have died and ascended into heaven. Misha’s orders sounded nothing short of a chorus of lusty angels, raw and unbridled in their want. And Jensen obeyed, each instruction more salient than the last.

“Tease her properly,” Misha growled. “I want you to beg for him, Y/N.”

Jensen’s own growl of frustration rumbled from his chest and through hers as he dragged the tip of his cock through her sopping cunt. “You heard him. Beg.”

“Jensen,” Misha warned.

“Yes, sir.”

Misha approached to stand beside him, and Jensen all but melted beneath his touch. “He is right though. I gave you an order.”

Beg. They wanted her to beg for Jensen to fuck her. The thought reminded her of last Friday, when Misha had asked her to present herself to him. She had risen to the occasion with surprising ease. Not that she had ever doubted herself. But the memory bolstered her confidence, nonetheless.

She reached for Jensen and grasped his shoulders, fingernails biting deep. A desperate moan soared higher and higher as she said, “Please, Jensen. I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

Tension rippled through his corded shoulders, and his grasp of her breast tightened. A deep growl stayed his hips, the tip of his cock coated in her arousal. Misha sighed a long groan, drawing her attention as he stroked himself stiff once more. He smoothed Jensen's heated skin, a touch so tender and loving, Y/N almost envied him.

Almost.

“Fuck me, Jensen. Please,” she breathed. “I can’t… I can't come without you. I need your cock. I need to feel you spreading my pussy. Please, Jensen. Give it to me.”

In a wild fit of lust, Jensen grabbed her by the hip and thrust into Y/N. That sudden fullness, though familiar, had taken her by surprise despite her taunting. Where Misha might have reached deeper, Jensen spread, stretched, and filled her so thoroughly, time stopped.

That tiny, infinitesimal moment lingered longer than it ought to, longer than it had any right to. It reflected in Jensen’s eyes blown wide, his lips parted ever so subtly, and the biting grip of his fingers on her hips.

“Fuck her, Jen. You want to.” Misha reached across him to touch Jensen's sweat soaked chest. The flat of his palm slipped through the slick down to his groin as he stepped behind him. “I can feel it in you, in her. You both crave palpably. Give in to it. Sate her. She’ll more than satisfy you.”

Damn. Misha’s expert command of words knew no bounds. Y/N’s mind wandered, if only for a second, as she imagined him talking to her until she orgasmed. But the fantasy vanished with the roll of Jensen’s hips as he obeyed Misha’s order. Each inch withdrew from her and they shivered together as he slid back in.

“Damn, Y/N, you are… fuck, I can’t,” Jensen groaned as he picked up his pace. “You just feel so fucking good.”

The slap of his hips against her thighs filled the kitchen as he thrust into her. Long moans of fresh arousal accompanied them, hers and his alike. When he settled into his pace, Y/N grasped his shoulders and clawed. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Her breath carried into a high moan, punctuated by hard thrust and deep growl.

“Famished, indeed,” Misha mused from Jensen’s backside. “I’m getting a little hungry myself watching this.” His free hand trailed down Jensen’s back. “Think you could pull a little double-duty, hun?”

Though his hips stuttered, Jensen steadied himself as he widened his stance. A deviant grin spread across his lips as he leaned over Y/N, arms wrapped around her, and laid her on the table. “I’ll pull whatever you want.”

Misha toward over Jensen, hip nearing his ass, and Y/N craned her neck. Ridges and dips of his spine lead to the curve of his muscled backside where, between his cheeks lay the long, swollen length of Misha’s cock. He held it firm against Jensen and rolled his hips for several strokes. Atop her, Jensen quivered despite his eager smile, subtle rolls of his own hips still stroking himself inside her.

“God dammit, sweetheart, this is so fucking good,” he started. “I hope I can last long— _fuck_!”

She spotted Misha’s hips flush with his ass and hands grasping his hips. A long low grown rolled from Misha’s chest as his head tilted back and his pants dropped to his ankles. “You had better satisfy her, Jen.” He withdrew and Jensen’s eyes rolled closed as his jaw dropped. “Might as well fuck yourself on my cock while you fuck her. Then everyone gets what they want.”

A sharp suck of air seeped through Jensen’s grinding teeth as he opened his eyes and stared into hers. “You ready, darlin’?”

Y/N shook her head. A steady, still moment lingered until Jensen’s lips crushed hers with a hard kiss, and then the world rocked.

No build up. No slow acceleration. No pace setting. Jensen thrust into her with a wild recklessness, pounding her into the table and jolting her entire body with shameless want. God, but it was all too much. The growling and the grunts, the vicious pumping, the rough grip of his massive hand on her entire breast. Delirious strings of nonsense fell from their lips, Misha far off and quiet, Jensen raw and loud and positively lascivious in all his perverted thoughts. It all built up for one final crescendo.

And then there was Y/N. _Fuck, Jensen, give it to me. Harder, baby, fuck my pussy good. I wanna come for you, fuck me, harder, more, oh, god, I’m so close, keep going, faster, oh, fuck!_

She cried out in a shock of overwhelming arousal and her entire body seized. Still as stone, she concentrated so hard on that singular sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. And just as she grasped it, just as she wrapped her entire consciousness around that elusive release, it shattered and consumed her.

Jensen, bless his heart, slowed for her. Or so she thought. As the aftershocks rolled through her, he shuddered between her thighs, then thrust one more time with a delightfully pathetic whimper. Behind him, Misha moved his hips, slow strokes that drew Jensen's jaw slack and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. His thrusts bottomed Jensen out inside her and coupled so well with her lingering climax, Y/N joined his rhythm.

“Y/N, you’re encouraging him,” Jensen groaned. “I can't… please, stop, it's too… _fuck, baby, that’s too much_.”

As he howled in his overstimulation, Misha grasped his shoulder and their bodies slapped together with one final thrust. Jensen collapsed atop her, hardly supporting his own weight, and Misha planted his hands on the table to either side of her hips. Sweat dripped from their brows and ran down their hunched shoulders, their heaving chests to mix in the pool gathering beneath her on the table.

Breath gathered, Y/N cupped Jensen’s face and raised his gaze to hers. “Good?”

He scoffed at that. “That ain’t good, sweetheart. That’s fucking amazing. What about you? Sated?”

She eyed Misha over his shoulder and grinned.

“Maybe once I eat some real god damn food, I will be.”

Misha picked up her dress to throw at her as he booed, and Jensen picked her up from the table to throw over his shoulder. “Showers first. Then dinner.”

“But—”

Y/N cried out as Jensen slapped her bare ass. “No buts. Unless you’re talking about this one. Only clean people at the dinner table, and we’re a hot mess of sex right now. Understood?”

Another glance at Misha found him trailing behind them, his pants gathered but hanging from his hips. “I’m not in charge anymore. His dinner table, his rules.”

In the bathroom, Jensen set her on her feet. Red cheeks and tousled hair looked better on him that it had any right to. When he started the shower, she asked, “Who’s shampoo am I using?”

Jensen regarded Misha over his shoulder, then turned back to her with a grin so deviant, that familiar ache between her thighs renewed. A step closed the space between them, and his hands slipped into her hair at the nape. His lips found hers for a kiss so full of want, Y/N knew without a doubt there was more to come. When he parted from her, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Depends on who you want behind you.”

_Damn._


	6. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a less than stellar holiday break, Y/N returns to set with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Days. Weeks. Then months. Like water from a sieve, the brief moments Y/N spent with Jensen and Misha--naked or otherwise--drained away. Too many fourteen-hour days. Too many sleepless nights. But that had not been her breaking point. No. Farm from it. At least at work, she might hold a long stare, linger too long in conversation, or merely savor their presence in silence. Hell, she might have even fucked in their trailers the two men that had irrevocably altered her life.

At least at work, they were together.

As Y/N stared at the unopened presents beneath her withering Christmas tree, she sighed. Holiday break had come and gone. No plans. No phone call. Not even a text. They hadn't even sent her anything. Not that she had held any sort of expectations. Given the whirlwind start to their relationship and their exhausting work schedules, they had hardly taken the time to talk much beyond work or the rules of their encounters. Small talk, sure. But never anything about plans. Forget the future.

But the future came and went. And during those few months, Y/N's worst fears plagued her restless mind. Too many questions lingered unanswered in the darkest recesses of her thoughts. She had imagined something that was not there, could never be there. Love was an entirely different game. What they had played was lust, gotten their fill, and were over it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Even in the days leading up to their return to set, the mere thought of facing them again soured her stomach. Where the holidays had dragged, the last week had passed in a blur of days. Mired in the unknown, Y/N floundered. What had kept them from her? Why leave her so stranded?

By her final Sunday night off, she had worried her nerves down to frayed ends. So, when Y/N walked back on set the following morning, she was determined to find both Jensen and Misha to end whatever it was that they had shared.

Unless there was nothing to end. Maybe that was what they had wanted. A short time play partner to scratch a sudden itch. Nothing wrong with that. As much as she hated it, she could handle it.

The thud of her bag on the folding table echoed through the cavernous soundstage. Several eyes snapped to her, voices quieted and smiles fading. Of course, they all felt it. With seven episodes left to film, everyone felt the looming end of the show. But none of them felt it the way she did. None of them felt the love, the deep passion, and the betrayal she felt. She ignored them.

Much like she ignored the confident warmth that enveloped her shoulder. Misha had found her before she had even managed to set up shop.

“Hey, Y/N.”

When she turned to look at him, his inviting smile melted faster than snow in July. “Hey.”

“Okay, we need to ta—”

“There’s really nothing to talk about,” she interrupted. “Y'all needed something from me, now you don’t. Pretty fucking simple.”

“No, please--” he started, but she wrenched free of his embrace and returned to her task. When she remained focused there despite his insistence, Misha ran both hands through his hair as he looked across the soundstage as though searching for something. Or someone. “No, it’s not that simple at all. It’s incredibly complicated and we should have talked about it sooner. Let me—”

“You know, we could have done this before the holidays,” Y/N stated. “Or right after. While we were still on hiatus. I didn’t hear from either of you for a month and a half. Not even a text message to let me know you were okay.”

Misha grimaced. “I know, Y/N, and that was wrong. We should not have done that to you. We… did not plan on any of this. It wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term.”

She rounded on him then. “Then what was it supposed to be?! A fling?! A temporary fuck buddy?! What?!”

He waited. Bless his heart, he waited for her to finish her tirade. When she calmed, he said, “A lover. The intent was no one-night stand. There was never going to be anything temporary about this. Please, Y/N come with me. We’ll find Jensen and we’ll talk in my trailer.”

Suspicion narrowed her glare as she considered Misha out of the corner of her eye. When her bag sat empty on the folding table, Y/N turned to him and spoke.

“Let’s get this over with.”

~*~

Mirrors. Why did they have so many mirrors in their trailers?

Carbon copies of each other, Misha and Jensen’s trailers were nearly indiscernible. Except for their scent. Jensen’s smelled of heather, pine, and sea salt, whereas Misha’s smelled of leather and citrus. And on those distinct aromas rode memories, each more salacious than the one that preceded it.

As she sat on the couch and stared at the mirror beside the TV, those memories flooded her senses. Cold glass on her tits. Misha’s hand between her thighs as he torqued one arm behind her back. Her skirt shoved up over her hips. Underwear wrenched aside. And his cock pounding her pussy until she came.

It should have aroused her. Should have sent that familiar rush down her spine. But as she waited for Misha to return to his trailer, she felt nothing. A little anxious. But mostly nothing.

That thought settled in the resigned recesses of her mind the moment the trailer door crashed against the opposite wall and Jensen leaped over the threshold. Startled so, Y/N reared back and jumped from the couch. But when Jensen spotted her and their eyes met, all her doubts vanished.

In a rush of wind, he crossed the two steps between them. His massive hands slipped into her hair, cupped her head, and kissed her so tenderly, Y/N might have wept were it not for her surprise.

When he released her, Jensen remained close, so close his breath warmed her lips, her cheeks, and Y/N shivered despite the heat that swelled in his embrace. The moment lasted only that single breath, for Misha cleared his throat before he entered his trailer. The door clicked shut with a soft snap behind him as he stepped in, and he remained by the door with an expectant look on his face.

Jensen regarded him for a beat, then turned back to her. He even managed to frown prettily. Damn him. “I guess we're supposed to talk.”

“Jen.”

Y/N found Misha's stare darkened, serious as ever. “We do need to talk. Before this goes any further.

With a disgruntled sigh, Jensen dropped onto the couch beside her and took her hands in his. “I want to apologize first. For not staying in contact at all over break. That was... very disrespectful, considering our intentions.”

She glanced at Misha as she asked, “What are your intentions?” then returned to Jensen.

As though she balanced precariously at the edge of a cliff, Y/N waited with rapt attention, her wide eyes boring into his. And Jensen, bless his heart, stared back. Between his lips, his tongue slipped, wetting them before he spoke.

“To make this permanent.”

Permanent.

That word alone sounded odd as it echoed in her head. “Permanent,” she repeated. The weight of it slowed her speech, so heavy on her tongue. Undetermined seconds ticked by, so lost in her thoughts. She had anticipated this moment. But as she sat there in Misha’s trailer between Jensen and he, Y/N questioned her every thought, her every action, her every want since filming had started that season.

When she remained silent, Jensen regarded Misha with a sidelong stare. From the door, he said, “The holidays should not have happened how they did, Y/N.” A hesitant step bore him nearer the couch, as though he second guessed himself, but another more determined step closed the remaining gap and he sat beside her. “We were planning on having you visit. Meet family and the like.”

“But we dropped the ball,” Jensen interjected. “There were things we should have done first, a long time ago, before introducing you to anyone.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Jensen grunted a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “Because we’re awful. To be honest, I was scared. I wanted to tell my family in person, but I could never find the right opportunity. Which is unfair to you. There probably won’t be a ‘right’ time to explain this to anyone we care about.”

Y/N wrung her fingers into knots as she listened. “I appreciate the understanding.”

“Of course, we understand. We should have just done it,” Misha added. “But we didn’t.” He inched closer and grasped her free hand in both of his. “We love you dearly, Y/N. More than you could possibly imagine.”

“We’re equally shocked, trust me,” Jensen teased. “Misha just said it while he was making breakfast the other day and I broke my favorite mug when I dropped it in the sink.”

“You did not drop it because I said I loved Y/N, you dropped it—”

“Hey!”

Misha’s teeth clicked shut and Jensen’s voice caught in his throat. At least they listened well enough. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t tell your families about me ahead of time and so that’s why you couldn’t… I don’t know, call me? Text me?”

“We should have,” Jensen stated. “None of the shit that kept me busy is worthy of your forgiveness. I should have texted you at the very least, if not called you to let you know everything was fine. Considering our short good-byes at the break party, it was the least we should have done.”

Misha nodded in agreement. “We’re jerks. We fucked up. But we still very much care for you. And we still want you to be in our lives. We hope you still want us in yours.”

At least they hadn’t intentionally ignored her. At least things made some sense. No, it wasn’t perfect. In fact, in the moment it all felt quite unforgivable. How could they expect her to move forward--with them, no less--after such a betrayal of trust? As if nothing had happened, a mere apology should fix it all?

To be honest with herself, a part of her wanted to walk away. Simple and clean. And yet, she loved them, much like they loved her. But did that mean she had to meet their families so soon?

Patient as ever, they waited for her to speak. Her rambling thoughts leaped from one to the next, and so, she said, “You didn’t give me your addresses. I couldn’t send the pile of gifts I got you, they’re all still sitting at my apartment…”

Misha groaned and Jensen palmed his forehead. “We should have. Can we make it up to you tonight? We also have several gifts for you.”

Before the holidays, gifts had felt like an unquestioned given. But there on the other side, they felt like complications. Strings. She sucked in a deep, clarifying breath and exhaled as she said, “On one condition.”

“Anything, Y/N,” Jensen insisted.

She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Let's hold off on any family gatherings for a while. Make sure this is the real deal, give it some time.”

Misha laughed as he said, “Out of the three of us, you're going to be the most level-headed. We need that.”

Jensen agreed with his own short bark of laughter. “Deal. Now, how about those gifts? I've been dying to give you mine.”

“Whenever we wrap tonight, meet at my place?” She asked.

Misha grinned as he said, “It's a date.”


	7. Is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N hosts Jensen and Misha for dinner, drinks, and late Christmas presents.

Luck, it would seem, was on their side that night. When the opportunity for her to leave early presented itself, Y/N bolted like lightning. She had texted Jensen and Misha to let them know she would meet them at her apartment, but beyond that, she wasted no time in making her escape. An hour later, subtle, sweet aromas filled her kitchen as pots simmered and pans sizzled on the stove, and dulcet tones fluttered from the satellite speakers in the ceiling.

It was damn near perfect. Good food, good drink, good music, good company. And if her father’s recipe from the old country didn’t fill their bellies, at least she had tried.

Worst case scenario, she would have a hell of a lot of leftovers all to herself. Consolation prize.

The sudden thumping at her door startled Y/N so severely, she nearly dropped her stirring spoon in the pot. One cursory look ensured her everything would survive a few minutes unwatched, and so she headed for the door. There, trepidation pulled her up short, her hand hesitating at the handle. But a breath of resolve steadied her grip, and she pulled it aside to reveal her guests: Jensen in his usual trim sweater and even slimmer pants, and Misha in a light jacket over his t-shirt and jeans. They both bore a few wrapped presents and smiles bright enough to light up all of Vancouver.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Jensen teased.

She scoffed with an eye roll to rival Misha’s as she ushered them in. “You saw me two hours ago, gimme a break.

“To be fair, we’ve missed you something fierce,” Misha said as he crossed her living room and set his presents beneath the lingering Christmas tree. Jensen handed his over the back of the couch, then rounded on Y/N and wrapped her up in his arms.

“Fierce doesn’t come close,” he said under his breath. His full lips brushed hers as he continued. “Something smells good.”

“Oh no,” Y/N declared as she squirmed out of his grasp and headed for the kitchen. “You’re not pulling that shit again. We are eating this food when it is ready, and we are opening these presents after that. Before _anything_ else.”

Jensen followed her, hot on her heels, but when she reached the stove, Y/N turned about and found him lingering at the threshold, pouting. Damn him. Nobody should be allowed to pout as pretty as Jensen did. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He grinned. “Okay, I get it. Misha even made me promise we’d eat first.”

“I’m starving!” Misha shouted from the living room. “And I’m opening one of my presents!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she turned back to the stove. “Which one?”

“This smaller, blue one,” he said as he rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. He rattled the box as he held it to his ear. “Beads?”

She stirred a pot on the stove to find her concoction ready to serve. “Buffet style, dish up here and take your plate to the table.” As she withdrew plates from the nearby cabinet, she looked to Misha and said, “You can open it.”

Giddy as a child on Christmas morning, he tore the wrapping paper and opened the small box. “Aw, a mala bracelet. It's beautiful,” he said as he held up the beaded bracelet.

“Oh, look, now we match,” Jensen teased as he held up his wrist. “Wait, did you do that on purpose?”

Piping hot meat and sauce flowed over the small pile of penne on her plate. With great care she finished her serving and turned for the table. “Maybe.”

When neither responded, Y/N paused halfway across the kitchen and looked to them. Jensen gaped openly as he scrutinized both bracelets, and Misha appeared on the verge of tears. She pressed on to the table and set down her plate with a thump. “Hey, c'mon, it's not that important. Don't get all sappy on me.” Both men remained silent, but Jensen regarded her with a fond smile. Her nerves got the better of her in that awkward silence and she rambled, “Okay, who wants wine? Or beer, I have beer. Oh, I could make mules, mules are good. If you like ginger, do you like gin—”

Misha crossed the kitchen first and wrapped her in a bear hug. “I love it. Thank you.”

She returned his embrace and said, “I'm glad you like it.” He continued to hold her so tightly, she began to sweat in his arms. “Misha, honey, I can't breathe. And the food is getting cold. I thought you said you were starving.”

He released her with a rough breath and a shake of his head, then darted for the stove. “I am.”

Another pair of arms wrapped around her before she had a chance to speak. “Intentional or not, you gave us both a gift. I hope you realize that.”

“I do. And it was intentional,” she muttered into his arms. “But I'm about as ravenous as Misha, so let's save the presents and tears and dramatic expressions of undying love until after dinner. And dessert.”

That snapped Jensen out of his sappier moment, and he loosened his embrace. “You had time to make dessert?”

She wriggled free of his arms and shooed him towards the stove. “No, I didn't. But I had time to stop at the liquor store.”

Misha, full plate in hand, sat at the table to her right. “More wine?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Beer?” Jensen stated. “Beer counts as dessert. Depending on the kind.”

Y/N headed for a cabinet as she replied. “No, not beer, although I have some in the fridge if you'd like one with dinner.” Wine glasses in hand, she picked up the uncorked bottle of Pinot on the counter and returned to the table.

“If not beer or more wine then… whiskey?” Misha asked.

She grinned as she poured him a generous glass. “Technically it's whiskey.”

Jensen squeaked a gasp as he arrived at the table with a heaping plate. “Did you buy scotch?”

Finally seated, Y/N said, “I did.”

“I don't suppose you'll tell us the distillery,” Misha teased as he cut into his food.

Y/N followed suit, slicing a meatball in half and devouring it. Savory red sauce filled her mouth, the myriad flavors combining for a taste unlike any other meal to grace her pallet. After finishing that bite, she said, “I will not. You'll have to wait until after dinner.”

A mischievous grin spread across his lips as Jensen spoke.

“Presents and scotch. Sounds like a proper date to me.”

* * *

“So which bottle should we open?” Jensen hefted his last Christmas gift. “The Bowmore or the Balvenie?”

“Jensen!”

His wide-eyed stare snapped to hers. “What?”

“We are not drinking your Christmas present tonight,” Y/N declared. “It was a gift. Besides, I bought the Twenty-Six on a whim, and I feel absolutely disgusting having spent such an exorbitant amount of money on liquor. I'm opening the Bowmore.”

Jensen stood with her as he protested. “There's no one else I'd rather drink the Balvenie with.”

Of course, he would say that. Y/N crossed the room for the liquor cabinet and withdrew the bottle of Bowmore. “Fair, and while appreciated, I would really prefer if you held onto it for a special occasion.”

He covered her hands as she tore at the seal of the bottle. “This is a special occasion.”

“It's a makeup date.”

“It's what should have happened on Christmas,” Misha insisted as he rose. “But if you're sure,” he paused as he withdrew Jensen's hands from hers. “We'll drink the Bowmore.”

“In your bedroom.”

Her glare darted from Misha to Jensen. A dark glaze deepened the green of his eyes, wicked, haunting, and alluring all wrapped up in one piercing look. A look she knew, had grown familiar with it over the last seven months. She had learned his game in that time. That bet promised everything he could give her. No. More. Misha lingered beside him, inching closer with each passing second.

She would see that bet. And raise him.

The thick glass of the heavy bottle dragged across the top of the wooden cabinet, and the crystal drinking glasses followed as Y/N turned for her room. She ventured a single step unaccompanied, but by the second, their wide strides joined her. Over her shoulder, Misha towered with Jensen right behind. Confident. Cool. And yet, she could taste their want, smelled in the air she breathed, and witnessed it plain as day on their faces.

Her bedroom door swung wide at the push of her hand. Dull lamplight cast a subtle shade of yellow across the room from opposite corners, and the bed sat centered opposite the door. “I'd apologize for not setting any kind of mood but,” Y/N began, “but I'm pretty sure neither of you care.”

“We don't,” Misha agreed as he took the bottle from her hand and served three generous pours into their glasses. He took one from her and handed it to Jensen, then set the bottle on her nearby dresser. “I appreciate the thought.”

Jensen raised his glass. “To you.”

“To Y/N,” Misha echoed.

She touched her glass to each of theirs. “To us.”

They repeated her and drained their glasses in smooth swallows. Heat radiated from her throat to her chest, filled her stomach, and raced to her toes. The only warmth that rivaled scotch was Jensen's hands, bereft of his glass and wrapped around her hips. Her glass slipped from her hand, whisked away by Misha as Jensen picked her up with such ease, her cheeks stung.

“Only one drink?” she asked as he neared the foot of her bed.

“No need to get sloppy,” he replied. “I want to remember this for the rest of my life.”

As he lay her on the bed, Jensen pressed into her, his weight solid, secure. His thick thigh parted hers to grind against her core and his lips found purchase along her jaw. A slick trail of kisses dotted her neck, her collar, and down the plunging neckline of her t-shirt. In that wave of sensation, she sought balance in his hair, so soft between her fingers. But then the bed shifted, and her wide stare snapped to her right and found Misha crawling towards her from the foot of the bed. He wore nothing but his boxers, a pile of his clothes gathered at her feet.

“You don't get her all to yourself this time,” he stated under his breath. “Back up.”

Jensen froze and regarded him from between her breasts, his hands cupping them. “Whoa, slow down, you're way ahead of us.”

“Maybe you should catch up,” Misha suggested. A coy smirk curled the corner of his lips as his stare locked with hers. “I'll help Y/N out of her clothes.”

A second of hesitation stayed Jensen's hand but then he stood and stripped. He managed to discard his sweater and t-shirt and started on his belt before Misha had even moved.

“Now you're the one that needs to slow down,” she said.

His belt hung from his unzipped pants, slack on his hips. A peek of briefs and pale skin shown beneath the hem of his shirt. “Will you two make up your minds?” he said with his own coy wink.

For weeks, Y/N had imagined how that very moment might come to pass. Her bedroom had always played a part. But beyond that, she wondered how they might end up there, in what configuration, where and how and even a little bit of why. So many iterations of that daydream had played in her mind, each drastically different from the last. But what always remained constant was the ache. The yearning. The outright desperation to finally experience that culmination of sensations.

And yet, there in her bedroom with Misha peeling away her clothes and Jensen stripping himself, Y/N could hardly believe it was actually happening. It wasn't until Misha tugged at her pants that she felt the air of the bedroom cool her heated skin, chest bare and pebbled with gooseflesh. A shiver coursed down her spine as he slipped from the bed and discarded her pants, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

Back on the bed, Misha sat beside her, still in his briefs, but they left extraordinarily little to the imagination. And much like Misha, Jensen stood before her as he tugged at the waistband of his own boxers. The hard ridge of his cock strained against the fabric as he drew them down his thighs. Inch by inch, he revealed himself, and Y/N watched, unblinking. How could she? It felt as though she were seeing him in all his naked glory for the first time all over again.

To her right, Misha groaned as though he read her thoughts. And bless Jensen's heart, he blushed. Pink from nose to navel, he looked as shy as a schoolboy. He halfheartedly attempted to cover himself with one hand as he turned his hips aside and said, “Quit ogling.”

A pointed look to her bare chest preceded her retort. “You first.”

“Never.” His wicked grin returned as Jensen knelt beside her. Hotter than the sun, his touch at her hips lanced fire through her body, and an unbidden sigh escaped her lips.

Misha must have taken that as his cue, for he followed suit and shifted behind her, deft fingers soothing the tense muscles of her shoulders and neck. Her head lolled from side to side and her eyes rolled closed as he explored, knots eased and mind calmed. In time, she breathed with him, and though Jensen teased the sensitive skin of her hips and thighs, nothing would distract her from Misha's presence.

Except for the sudden fullness of Jensen's fingers slipping inside her.

Y/N sucked in a gasp as her back arched in a spasm. “Fuck, Jensen, that was mean, you knew I wasn't ready.”

He withdrew his fingers and examined them in the bedroom light. A fine sheen of her arousal coated them both. “Your pussy suggests you are plenty ready. And I know you loved it.”

Though she tried to appear mad, Jensen slipped his fingers back in before she could speak. Only an indignant squawk left her open mouth, one that faded into a high moan and dragged on as he began to stroke.

Behind her, Misha released her and shifted on the bed. When he returned to her, he grasped her wrist and dragged it to him. The hot, firm length of his cock filled her grasp as her fingers wrapped around the shaft. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

She looked over his shoulder and found Misha kneeling over her, a deviant look in his eyes. “Turn over.”

“But Jensen—”

“Will move,” Misha finished for her. “He's a big boy.” He paused as he glanced at Jensen. “A very big boy.”

Y/N did as he said and turned to him, and Jensen's touch withdrew. On her hands and knees, she looked up to Misha and asked, “Here?”

Misha's too gentle touch cupped her chin. “Right there,” he said as he angled the tip of his cock to her lips. “I'd like to feel this again.”

Even on her lips, the aroused flesh of his cock seared, hot and throbbing with want. She enveloped him to the head, ready to take him into her throat until that familiar fullness returned. A muffled cry breathed through her nose as Jensen spread her, not with his fingers, but with his cock buried to his pelvis in her cunt.

“Holy shit, I missed this,” Jensen shuddered as he rolled his hips. “Tight, wet, and wrapped around my dick. Oh, baby, you look so good on me.”

Misha groaned and echoed him. “These lips.” He paused for a breath. “God, they are sex incarnate, sin and lust and pleasure all wrapped around my cock.” Subtle rolls of his hips sent him down her throat. “And you take it like such a good little slut.”

Jensen's hips faltered a beat, but when she moaned on Misha's cock, he recovered. “How long have you been calling her that?”

“What?” Misha breathed. “Oh, slut? We tried it out a couple times before break. Along with a few other things.”

The bite of Jensen’s nails shot arousal straight to her core, and Y/N quivered under the wave of sensations. Christ, but she had imagined this. Anticipated it. Planned on it. Spit-roasted by the two men she had always adored but had grown to love? That had been near the top of the list. And yet, in the midst of the act, she floundered in the torrent of sensations.

But then a new arousal slammed her consciousness back into the present. Jensen teased the rim of her asshole as he asked, “Like these kinds of things?”

Misha hummed his approval, and Y/N felt his erection spike with a hard flex of his cock. “And others. I think you'll be quite pleased. She'll give us a run for our money in the bedroom.”

Jensen grasped her ass harder, thrust a little faster, and a guttural growl rolled from his throat. “Good God, honey, if you let us abuse you like this, we'll do anything for you.”

“Be careful, Jen,” Misha sighed. “She'll tie you to the bed, tease you into the most painful erection you've ever had, then leave you there until you burst without anything touching your cock.”

A long groan sounded from behind her, and that time Y/N felt Jensen's extra jolt of arousal. “Baby, I'd pay you to do that to me,” he groaned. The slick, sweaty heat of his chest met her back as he leaned into her ear and whispered, “But only if you tie Misha to a chair and make him watch.”

She reared back and withdrew Misha from her mouth. “Lucky for you, I'd do it for free,” she said over her shoulder. “But if we keep talking about it, we won't get much further tonight. And I want the fullest experience. If you get what I mean…”

Misha grasped her by the chin once more and pulled her to his lips with a rough jerk. His tongue dove into her mouth for a rough kiss, only to tear her away the second she pressed for more. “Next time, I'm coming on your face.”

“Only if I get to ride yours first,” she retorted.

“Deal,” he stated. “Now, turn around. I've been dying to feel this, too.”

Jensen withdrew from her with a snap of his hips, and Y/N shuddered at the sudden emptiness. Cool air chilled her arousal that ran down her thighs, and though she knew what was about to happen, her fingers shook as she turned around. When she grasped Jensen's shoulders, a concerned furrow of his brow darkened his stare.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked. “It's absolutely fine if you say no. We can do something else.”

“Better say it now before I open this though,” Misha teased as he flicked the foil wrapping of a condom.

Despite her unsteady hands, Y/N laughed. “I'm just nervous. I promise, I can take you both.”

Jensen grinned as he hooked one arm under her left leg. “That's my girl. But if anything hurts or is uncomfortable, tell us immediately. We'll adjust. This should feel…” He paused, whether for dramatic effect or to concentrate on slipping his cock between her lips, she couldn't tell. “Amazing.”

Four. All four hands grasped her, greedy fingers biting into her flesh, and not a single coherent thought penetrated her mind. Heat enveloped Y/N from behind as citrus and leather filled her nose, Misha's presence overwhelming. He grasped her by the ass as Jensen hooked his other arm under her right thigh and lifted. Weightless between them, their strength bore her as if she belonged in their arms, perfect in every way.

“Ready?” Misha asked, lips brushing her ear.

She dared not speak, her tongue heavy and unwieldy in her mouth, so she only nodded. And then that full, spread sensation returned. Jensen eased into her inch by agonizing inch. More. She wanted—no, needed more. More of them both, immediately, more of their touch, their lips, their lusty stares. Everything they could give her she needed in the moment Jensen's pelvis met hers, his cock completely sheathed.

But then the world shattered. Ice flowed through her veins and fire seared her flesh. Her mind warred with every sensation ravaging her body as Misha slipped into her ass without any further warning, not even a preceding touch. Full, so full, Y/N had never felt such a completely overwhelming rush of arousal, she nearly wept her moan of pure ecstasy to the sky.

Jensen gasped with her, and his hips stuttered as he withdrew. “Fuck, Misha, I… I think I can-”

“Feel you,” Misha grunted. “Christ, that's insane. I mean… I knew it was a thing but… holy fuck, I didn't think it would feel quite like this.”

He moved before Y/N had a chance to think, let alone speak. Jensen's lips landed on Misha's so hard, she worried he had hurt him. But Misha clearly did not mind, for his hips thrust in a sudden burst of speed, and Jensen followed. Their lascivious sounds drowned out the cacophony of her reeling mind, the wet locking of their lips and laving of their tongues far more arousing than she thought possible.

More. Despite all that they gave her, she needed more. As though he had read her mind, Jensen parted from Misha and swiftly turned for her, his wet lips tasting of them both. Misha suckled at her ear, then down her neck as Jensen's tongue dove into her mouth, and the mess they made of her heated the arousal between her thighs to a rolling boil.

Jensen swallowed her moans as he thrust into her, and though she struggled to breathe, Y/N hardly cared. In their embrace, smothered, a surreal sense of freedom consumed her. Safe in their arms, she surrendered to their strength. Though Misha yet held her, his hands roamed, one over her hip to tease her swollen clit, and the other grasped her breast. All the while he, too, thrust into her, hips slapping against her ass in time with Jensen.

“I'm… I can't keep this up much longer,” Misha muttered into the crook of her neck. “Your… God, your asshole is fucking amazing.”

Jensen tore from her lips and Y/N's moan burst free from hers as he said, “You better keep at it for however long she lasts, or I'll bend you over the foot board—”

“Holy fuck, I'm gonna come.”

Misha's hips stuttered and Jensen nearly dropped her. She grasped his shoulders, nails biting into the muscle, and he sucked a sharp breath through gritted teeth. When they remained stilled, Y/N begged for them to continue.

At least, that was what she thought she had said. Maybe not the exact words. But the general idea had crossed her mind. She might have said it. Coherently, even. And yet, their response suggested otherwise. Jensen shifted her weight in his arms until she turned on her knees to face Misha. Beneath his stare, a long moment passed before she realized just how empty she felt. Then the room tilted until she landed atop Misha, tugged atop him as he collapsed to his back on the bed.

He smiled his brilliant smile, bright blue eyes wide as they stared at hers. Full of wonder, his gaze searched hers, but for what, she couldn't be sure. Answers? To what questions? She hoped he found whatever it was he needed, for she found the confidence and belief to assuage her earlier concerns in his.

“Ready?”

Foil crinkled from behind her, and when she checked over her shoulder, Y/N found Jensen tearing open a fresh condom. She turned back to Misha as a grin spread across her lips. “Are you?”

Fullness returned as Misha slipped between her lips and slid inside, bereft of his condom. A breathless moan seeped from her lungs as her back arched, fingers clenched, thighs flexed. Misha's groan accompanied hers, short rolls of his hips coating his cock in her arousal. That little movement—his thick shaft gliding between her lips, pelvis grinding against her clit—was enough to unravel her in a single moment. But that, she knew, was only the half of it.

A familiar pressure spread her asshole as Jensen slipped in, each inch easing the taut muscle. Nothing else compared to that sensation. Greedy fingertips bit into the meat of her hips, and a gentler grasp cupped her breasts, stiff nipples rolled between thick fingers. Rhythmic motion, syncopated thrusts, and timed breaths sang their song of pleasure, a sound no sweeter. The soft fullness of Misha's lips found hers with such a sudden need, Y/N whimpered.

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Jensen stated.

When she parted from Misha, delirious drivel dripped from her lips as she tried to speak, so tongue-tied by the moment. No matter how hard she focused, the physical sensations inundating her senses controlled every ounce of concentration she possessed. In perfect time, they alternated thrusts, their pace slowly, agonizingly speeding up.

In too few minutes, the apex of her pleasure encroached. Though she had imagined that release, the myriad minutia and diminutive details of every step along that path, with the moment upon her, Y/N resisted. If she held out, the night might last a little longer, their time together that much more complete. But as her moans crept ever higher, Jensen and Misha renewed their pursuit of her pleasure, thrusting harder and faster, bodies slapping, and lips plying her flesh. While they were both doing their best, it was Jensen's whisper in the crook of her neck that toppled her over the edge.

Tightly coiled arousal burst at the seams and crashed into her with such force, her cry clipped short, and her breath caught in her lungs. Fractured spasms stuttered her hips as Jensen and Misha continued to the thrust into her at their own disjointed paces. In the grip of her release, the multitude of sensations drowned out everything until a sudden combined thrust from both men filled her to the brim.

The shock of such fullness startled her into focus, where she found Misha's face contorted, eyes squeezed shut, and teeth clenched as a sharp inhale filled his lungs. His hips snapped down and withdrew from her completely as he reached for her hip. Between her thighs, he stroked his cock with short, quick flicks of his wrist. Deep grunts emanated from his tightly shut lips until his breath, too, stuck in his throat, and a hard flex of his cock lanced long white ropes of cum from the tip. Warmth ran in tiny rivulets down her ass, her cunt as Misha came on her. Beneath her, he shuddered in a final flex of release, grunting as the last of his orgasm dribbled beads of cum from the tip of his cock.

Not a heartbeat behind, Jensen withdrew from her and tossed the condom aside in one fluid stroke. The two men could be no different in their arousal; where Misha's harsh jerks and forceful hips ordered release, Jensen's long, graceful strokes and rolling thrusts into his firm fist seemed to gently coax his orgasm from him. He appeared almost as if he posed for a photographer, like some sort of statuesque art, his free hand smoothing his chest and thumbing a pebbled nipple. Proof of that poise softened his face, his eyes gazing longingly at her supine body—he seemed to be staring squarely at her ass—and his lips subtly parted. Faster, his deft strokes quickened until one final flourish bobbed the head of his cock, and a similar long white rope of cum flowed from the swollen head.

It landed on her ass in a graceful arc, followed by another, and yet another. Soft rolls of his wrist stroked the last inch of his shaft as Jensen sighed a soft moan, chin lifted, and eyes closed. His breath never faltered; hips never stuttered. The picture of poise, he remained still for a lingering moment, then opened his eyes as he smiled.

Without a word, Jensen slipped from her bed and darted into the bathroom. He returned a moment later, warm washcloth in hand. As gentle as she had ever felt his touch, he wiped away the evidence of their pleasure, then did his best to cleanse Misha and himself. He discarded the cloth, tossed in the hamper and promptly forgotten.

Y/N slid from Misha to lay on her side as Jensen returned to them. He curled in behind her, an arm draped over her hip as the other planted to support his head. Misha remained on his back, one arm under her head and the other flat on his chest. His bright blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, and a soft smile played on his lips as he caught his breath. Behind her, Jensen curled in close, nose buried in her hair to nuzzle her neck.

Cast adrift, Y/N closed her eyes and surrendered to the undulating rhythm of their breath. Surreal, the deluge of sensations swelled and consumed her, until at last, her heart slowed, and her whirling thoughts quieted. In their arms, she had found something that she had missed over the years, a sense of peace, of tranquility. Serenity, even. All her worries faded away, tension seeped from her muscles, and sleep soon found them all. And in that deep dark nothing, Y/N found the solution to all her concerns.

Though the end of an era loomed, their story was only just beginning.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later.

"Y/N! It's here!"

She sat up as Jensen rounded into the living room. He brandished a large packet envelope as though he held up a triumphant trophy. From his kitchen, Misha joined them, a questionable look clouding his otherwise pretty face.

"Is that—"

Y/N launched from the couch as she reached for the envelope. "The EW shoot!"

"Hey, now," Jensen said as he held it out of her reach. "No need to get grabby."

"Just open it!" she exclaimed. "I'm dying to see how it came out! I've been stressing about it since last summer."

Last summer. The memory flooded her mind as though it were only yesterday.

_Malibu. Sun and sky. Three of the hottest men she had ever had the privilege to photograph. And one damn fine car._

The rip of the envelope returned her thoughts to the present. Jensen removed two magazines, held them out at arm’s length, and grimaced. "I dunno, Y/N. I look kinda old."

"You _are_ kinda old," Misha teased. "Show her before she passes out."

He grinned as he turned the magazines over and showed her. One bore all three men, Misha and Jared side by side as they crowded over Jensen, all three smiling their beautifully soft smiles. The other bore Jensen and Jared, brothers beyond blood.

"Oh," she sighed, "they're perfect. Oh my god, they're wonderful." Unbidden tears filled her eyes as she grasped one and opened it. In a few pages, she found the article accompanied by her photographs, and then the tears flowed freely.

Jensen had found it, too, eyes redder than he would ever admit. "They used it."

"They did," she said as she covered her mouth.

Misha shuffled near and hovered over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "It says more than any words ever could."

"It does. And I'm glad I caught the moment," Y/N said. "I almost didn't. Everything was happening so fast, with the champagne and…"

A sniffle drew her up short. She looked to Jensen and found him staring at the same picture, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he saw that he'd been caught, he wiped at his face and snapped the magazine closed. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" she declared through a laugh.

He half turned from them, the heel of his hand fervently rubbing at his eyes and a disgruntled sigh heaving his shoulders. “Dammit, I…” he started, but fell quiet. Hand withdrawn, a thousand-mile stare settled on his face, drawn to the large bay window full of sunlight. What, she wondered, did he see there if anything? The tiny knot between his brow and the distant gaze said more than any words could.

Like a moth to the flame, it wasn’t until the heat of him swallowed her whole that she realized she had crossed their living room and slipped under his arm. With hers wrapped around his waist, Jensen held her close about the shoulders. And then Misha’s warmth joined, flush to her back and a hand at her hip.

“To be honest, I never thought this would work,” Jensen stated. “And that scares me. I love you both so much, it’s terrifying.”

Y/N let that sink in a moment. “I didn’t think it would work either. And I love you both, too. And I am so glad we’re together, I can’t imagine not having either of you in my life with the show finished.”

A long silence filled the space between thoughts until Misha spoke. “I knew it would work out. I love you both too much for it to have not worked out.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Don’t be a dick.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he said, “I’m not. I’m serious. The minute we got to my apartment that first date, I knew you were the woman we had been searching for.”

Still skeptical, Y/N asked, “How so?”

He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers without a single sign of hesitation. And though her eyes had closed, she felt Jensen’s on them. Despite that, despite the absurdly deviant nature of it all, it felt distinctly normal.

No. Not just normal.

It felt right.

Cool air met her lips as Misha parted from her and he said, “Because of that.”

“… of what?” she repeated.

“You felt it?” he asked. When her eyes narrowed, he said, “Tell me how that felt.”

A cautious look to Jensen found an equally confused quirk to his brow. “It felt… good. Like it always has. I don’t get it.”

Clarity blossomed on Jensen’s softened gaze. “It felt right.”

 _Right_.

“Exactly,” Misha agreed. “That first night, it felt _right_ . Nothing about it felt bad or wrong or taboo, whatever bullshit you want to call it. I’ve never experienced one iota of guilt or shame this entire relationship.” He paused before adding, “Except Christmas, but that was distinctly because we were not with you. _That_ felt wrong.”

“It was awful,” Jensen added. “It felt like a part of us was missing the entire time. I hated it.”

Y/N scoffed as she said, “Trust me, you both more than made up for that.” An unbidden shiver coursed down her spine at the memory. “And I get what you’re both saying. As new as this sort of relationship is for all of us, it’s… easy? I’m not sure how to put it.”

Jensen nodded. “It just feels like everything is in the right place.”

“Like everything’s… organized,” Misha stated as he wrapped his arms around them both once more. “I don’t know, that’s not very romantic. Sorry.”

She settled into their warmth again and drifted off on that familiar current. Then it dawned on her, the perfect thought to punctuate the entire relationship.

“It feels like…”

Her silence lingered long enough that Jensen said, “Go on.”

She held them both closer as she spoke.

“Like the way it ought to be.”


End file.
